


non stop!

by beemblebummed



Category: L4D, L4D2 - Fandom, Left 4 Dead (Video Games), Left 4 Dead 2
Genre: Everyone Gets Attention, THIS IS A REPOST OF THE ORIGINAL BECAUSE I WENT BACK AND FIXED / TWEAKEDA LOT, Zombie Apocalypse, im much happier with this one even if i liked what i had first for the most part, what other tags do i need to add tho hmmm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 11:14:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11206938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beemblebummed/pseuds/beemblebummed
Summary: everything stays the same- except when it doesn't. with a preface/prologue set just before their journey into Whispering Oaks, our ragtag survivors of the Green Flu go through every level of hell to find some sort of solace, however fleeting, in a world constantly falling apart.stay tuned for the events after they find themselves falling into military custody...//this is a repost ! i plan on deleting the original work and putting this one up as the "real" version. in my free time, i changed and fixed up a lot, and i've even written more, so i wanted the foundations to match what i am doing in the present. thank you for reading !!!





	1. prologue - a touch of normalcy?

**Author's Note:**

> *** possible squicks / triggers ***  
> \- swearing  
> \- Rochelle briefly eats, but it's not described in detail  
> \- mentions & use of guns

“Normal” days started meaning very different things, compared to what they used to be. For example, some people classified kicking back, drinking a beer or two, and watching sports a “normal” day. Some gave the name to morning-to-night shifts, working until their very soul felt like it had died and refused to come back. “Normal” had a lot of different meanings back before, but as of late, “normal” meant one thing.

 

“Ro! Bomb!”

 

Ellis' voice cuts effectively through the horde of zombies as he switches his current gun to his left hand, leaving open his right to catch the bile bomb he is about to receive. It flies through the air from Rochelle's hand and then successfully into his, and he wastes not a moment before launching it once more. It quickly finds its way to the intended target, a horde piling up nearby, and with its bursting on said horde, they become the target of any infected close enough to smell it.

 

With that distraction, Ellis an Rochelle rush as fast as possible away from the infighting-filled horde, the calls of Nick and Coach in the car ahead gradually getting closer— they are almost out of dodge, and they can just _drive_. With that positive thought, Ellis chances a look back over his shoulder, and pretty much regrets that decision, eyes widening as a duo of Tanks bear down on them.

 

By now, Nick and Coach have noticed them as well, and the panic between the two increases inside the faux-safety of their vehicle as they quickly position themselves to be able to drive away the _moment_ their other team mates reach them. A pronounced “God damn it!” leaves Nick as he climbs himself through the sunroof of the vehicle and aims his weapon of choice at the moment, an assault rifle, at the heads of one of the Tanks to his best ability, and begins opening fire. All the while, Ellis and Rochelle are still trying to reach the car, deciding at the moment to just run, and not waste time trying to shoot their oncoming enemies.

 

However, just before they get within range of the car, they both hear the sound of one of the Tanks smacking into the ground, Nick's hoot of triumph, and the lack of _two_ gigantic footsteps. With those events happening, Rochelle and Ellis exchange looks, nod, and then whip around, guns up. With the aiding of Nick's bullets, the pair proceeds to unleash hell on the massive infected, standing hard and firm, determined to take down the son of a bitch.

 

It hits the pavement with its final, futile attempt to swing at its attackers, and just like that, the problem is out of the way. The moment Ellis and Rochelle whip around and continue for the car, the horde loses its distraction in what infected had been bathed in bile, and now run after the survivors. Nick remains out through the sunroof, teeth bared as he picks off as many infected as he can with well-placed headshots, and even keeps at it when his friends reach the car and get inside at last.

 

Coach swiftly gets the car going; focusing now only on the road and possible hazards while Nick shoots and Ellis tends to Rochelle. She had sustained a rather harsh hit to her side, which still releases blood while he urgently pushes as many bandages as he can over it. She simply sits back, eyes closed, wincing every few seconds, as Ellis attempts to help the best that he can. The quartet has all said nothing since the car started, but it only takes a few minutes for that to change.

 

By now, Coach has outdriven the horde, and Nick is now sliding back into the car. Sitting passenger in the front, he leans around the seat and assesses the situation of his comrades in the backseat. Ellis is still frantically providing first aid, searching the car and whatever packs he has after pushing as much gauze on as he can for any pain pills, _extra_ bandages, and even something for her to eat.

 

Once Ro opens her eyes and looks to Nick, the man nods at her in greeting. “How's it going?”

 

She just scoffs in response. She does not miss the brief smirk on Nick's face, but also does not really pay much attention to it, either.

 

“Sweetie,” the woman says to Ellis gently, reaching out to touch his arm as a means of comfort, “I'm okay. I want you to sit back and take a deep breath— I'm fine.”

 

He does not look very convinced, brown eyes still wide and face still locked in worry mode. “No, but Rochelle, you got _really_ busted up, you need t' eat or somethin', here, I got a granola bar!”

 

Ellis pulls out said snack, quickly handing it to his friend before she can decline, and goes back to his packs, and whatever others may lay in the foot of the car. He re-packs everything he had taken out during the search, muttering quietly, his accent thicker than ever in his distracted note-to-selfs; he does not even notice Nick is listening and getting a bit of a kick out of the hillbilly in a tizzy. Meanwhile, Rochelle is trying to open her food, reaching over absently afterwards to gently pat Ellis' thigh.

 

With the touch, he huffs quietly, his muttering slowing to a full stop, and he sits back against the seat beside his friend. “God damn stupid zombies...” is the last thing he says, voice low, but not enough to go by unheard, and then he promptly passes out. Nick is still observing the backseat at that point, his jaw dropping at Ellis' ability to get to sleep so quickly— sure, it is definitely, in part, due to the stress, the energy he expels daily, and just recently getting a big shot of both. But still, it blows Nick away.

 

Rochelle takes a small, tentative bite of her bar, not agreeing too much on the abundance of salt, but not minding enough to complain. She looks at Nick for a moment, and then to the rearview mirror, managing to catch Coach's eye as she had hoped.

 

“Do you know how far until we get to Whispering Oaks?” Ro asks, her voice low, riddled with the exhaustion that is equally as clear on her face. “You said you used to love the place. Happen to know if we're close?”

 

Coach huffs quietly, shifting in his seat as Nick turns and faces frontward once again. “Man, I can barely remember y'all's names sometimes,” he says, shaking his head. “I'll let you know if shit gets familiar, all right?”

 

Nick snorts softly and Rochelle smiles just a bit. “All right, Coach.” After saying that, she decides she does not want to finish her bar yet, so she wraps it up as best as she can, sticks it down into her pocket, and closes her eyes. As carefully and as quietly as possible, the woman slowly lies over, resting her head over on Ellis'. He is a bit shorter than her, but the positioning is not awkward; his head rests on her shoulders, and her head rests on his head.

 

Once settled again, she can hear him mumbling something about Keith, and she smiles. “Just a normal day in the end of the world,” mutters Ro before falling asleep as well.

 

Indeed, those are the general criteria of normal things happening. Going deaf for a few seconds from the gunshots, getting blood and puke in a lot of places that no one should ever have either, nearly dying, and of course, narrow getaways to figure out a path to _more_ narrow getaways— wash, rinse, repeat. Repeat. Repeat. _Repeat._

 

“Normal”, however, was about to change, if only a little. Would it stay changed forever? Maybe it would. But then “normal” would simply take on another meaning. And one thing, one single, honest truth that never changes— _things will change._


	2. caging hope.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> out of the immediate danger zone? yes. but only from the infected. maybe our group of gritty survivors are about to find actual peace within the daunting and heavily guarded walls, but things have gone south before. what's upsetting Ellis? what will become of Nick with what he confessed? Coach's leg could cause problems, but will the military help? 
> 
> Rochelle doesn't know for sure, but she plans to do whatever she possibly can to keep her boys safe, no matter what that entails.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( "everybody" by backstreet boys blares loudly in the distance )
> 
> *** possible triggers / squicks ***  
> \- swearing  
> \- brief violence  
> \- mention of guns / weapons  
> \- light description of injuries

At first, the helicopter in-bound seemed so loud, louder than the guns even. Rochelle had grown accustomed to the sound of gunshots, and it would not be until the next time she heard one that the woman would realize her previous thoughts were incorrect. The bullets are actually much louder, even if the helicopter is uncomfortable with no ear protection.

 

Ellis had taken a hit just before getting to the safety of the chopper, his shoulder gushing blood, but instead of worrying about himself and his own wounds, he is helping Coach. Rochelle cannot hear very well at all, but she can tell the basics of the interaction between the boys. Coach is clearly upset, and Ellis has one of the most determined expressions on Ro has ever seen him wear as he is pushing whatever is left of his med kit into Coach’s reach, all for his busted leg.

 

It takes her a moment to even find Nick— she is definitely out of it— and he is standing right beside her. He looks just as dazed, confused, and just… _blank_ as Rochelle feels. She cannot understand it, she cannot figure out why she feels this way, or, rather, why she does not feel _anything_.

 

They are being saved. They are getting to safety. So why does she feel so _blank_?

 

Out of seemingly nowhere, something touches her arm. Blinking, Rochelle looks down as confusion crosses her face, finding Nick’s double-ringed hand pressed against her, the blood spattered across his fingers smearing off onto her. She does not even notice. It is nothing new, at this point. After assessing that, she turns her gaze back up to the man, the confusion lingering in her eyes, but it is more than just about who is touching her.

 

She finds that stupid _Nick smirk_ plastered on his face, grayish eyes containing a light Ro had not seen since the first “evacuation”. Granted, she had not even cared enough then to look for it, but seeing it again, she remembers it. He is smiling, he is happy, he is actually... hopeful.

 

“We’re _safe_ ,” he risks whispering, the smug smirk slowly forming into a jubilant grin. “It… It’s good.”

 

It takes her a moment to really let that sink in, but then it finally does. The loud helicopter’s rotors above her, the static-riddled words and commands issued from the military soldiers that picked them up, it all blurs into the back of her mind. For just a second, all Rochelle sees is Nick, and then she smiles. She nods slowly, and he takes his hand back, letting it hang at his side. He has no words; he just has feelings, and a _lot_ of them.

 

“Ellis!” Rochelle calls through the noise, carefully making the short distance to him. The country boy looks over his bloody shoulder, looking far less panicked than before. She would swear if later she had been able to recall this whole thing perfectly, that her young friend had tears in his eyes.

 

“Ro, Coach ain’t feelin’ too good, but I fixed up his wound, I think!” Ellis tells the woman as she crouches next to him, looking back to the man in question. Coach is propped up against the seats of the chopper now, shaking his head with an annoyed look on his face.

 

“He’s also in a bit of a foul mood,” Ellis confirms vocally, “but I dunno, I think he’s better annoyed than dead, ya know?”

 

She answers with a nod, gently clapping Coach on the shoulder, to which he just grunts and then relaxes, letting his eyes shut and himself _rest._ God, what a sight, she thinks to herself as she watches him; her team being able to safely, comfortably _rest_. It’s good, she repeats Nick’s statement mentally, leaning over and wrapping an arm around Ellis’ shoulders. He leans back against her, his arm shifting to go around her back and keep a gentle hold of her.

 

“We did it, Ro,” Ellis says quietly, nodding. “We did it.”

 

They all feel a wave of something. It is definitely that really good feeling: the numbness from the shock and from the disbelief, and then the amazement and the re-supply of actual, real, genuine _hope_. Rochelle will definitely remember that she had been crying, even if she would only remember _later_ , and she would also vaguely recall Coach jovially yelling the lyrics to a song she would assume had been something by the Midnight Riders.

 

The quartet’s burst of joy would last only a few moments, though, as they soar through the air. They do not lose the meaning behind that happiness, but they are brought back into the reality of the situation when Nick is roughly grabbed by a gas masked-soldier. His reaction is sharp, jerking out of the grip and quickly displaying his disapproval of that, but thankfully, he does not physically respond any harsher than that.

 

“ _We have a lot of questions for you four_ ,” they say, gaze shifting from Nick to the trio in the floor after that reaction. “ _There’s only a couple we need to cover right now_.”

 

Coach does not budge from his position, only offering a semi-annoyed grunt in response, but Ellis and Rochelle proceed to turn around where they sit. They remain close together, regardless, waiting now for whatever questions they need to answer for their rescuers. Granted, they were almost their _killers_ , but at the moment, they do not have time to worry about that brush with the actual end. They can be pissed about that later.

 

The mask-wearing soldier nods. “ _Firstly, how many of you have been bitten or brutally scratched?”_

 

Nick shifts from one foot to another after the first moments of no answers being given, and then slowly moves towards his team. It is obvious that he is uncomfortable, but his back is to his friends, so they do not see how nervous he is when tugging the blue button-up slightly to the side. Only Rochelle can tell that he is doing that, as Ellis has taken to staring through the open space in the side of the chopper, watching the fallen city as they go— of course, Nick does not know either of these things, but had been prepared for it happening either way.

 

“ _When did that happen?_ ” they ask.

 

“Early,” he answers, not very hesitantly but still quietly, “in the first couple of days.”

 

The soldier does not react immediately in any intelligible way, watching Nick through a mask that only goes one direction. If only this stranger would show their face, Nick could make a better judgment of the situation, and maybe figure out what to do now. He does not like the awkward silence. Thankfully, though, he does not have to suffer through it for much longer, and even makes a mental note to thank Rochelle later for speaking up to get things rolling again.

 

“He’s immune,” she pipes up, watching apprehensively in fear something will happen, “so don’t get your panties in a bunch.”

 

The solder remains unmoving another moment or so, but then nods. “ _If you’re lying, it doesn’t take long to find out._ ”

 

Nick’s frown is deep and fierce, the annoyance that surfaces over the apprehension only seen in that moment by the unnamed soldier but heard quite easily by Rochelle in his words as he speaks them coldly, “I’m not lying.”

 

They just nod and continue, focusing on someone other than Nick as they ask more questions. _What are all of your names?_ Introductions of an oddly awkward kind are had. _How many infected people have you killed?_ They answer with “too many”. _How many uninfected have you killed?_ They all answer with “none.” The soldier notices, however, that Ellis’ answer is slowed up, and it takes a moment for that strange flicker of doubt to leave his brown eyes before he can even say the word with a sense of clarity. Notes are mentally being made in the masked fellow’s mind, things to follow up with and _how_ to follow them up. Nick and Rochelle are able to tell that, at least vaguely, by the multiple pauses in between questions.

 

That is all they ask, though, and from there on out until the helicopter touches down again, all five of them are cushioned in a deep silence as far as their own voices go. It does not lift even as the vehicle flies over a high-walled enclosure, down onto a pad connected to a decently-sized, strong-looking building. The quartet takes note of all the watch towers, three per wall, manned with it looked like three soldiers at a time. Behind the walls, on inside walkways, there were even a few people walking, fully armored and fully armed, patrolling and watching _inside_ the perimeter as well as peering out into the open.

 

Nick is still searching for anything surrounding them now that he would need to make note of, but he is interrupted rather rudely by their chaperoning soldier grabbing his arm. He almost wants to protest, but a gun is pressed immediately to his temple, so he shuts up and cooperates. The man looks over to his companions, teeth gritting rather fiercely behind closed lips as the same treatment is given to them by both the pilot and the three new soldiers who had joined them. Coach is supported by two different armored unknowns, his leg still smarting, but a gun is to his head, regardless.

 

“Shit, man, what the hell’s yer problem!?” Ellis cries from somewhere behind Nick, a pained groan following the indignant phrase. Before the sound of his voice even fades out, there is a trio, a chorus of protest, yelling to leave him alone, yelling to order Ellis give his cooperation— if they can just get through this, they will be safe, he needs to understand that!

 

“Ellis, calm down, boy!” Coach roars over the fuss, but Ellis has already been shoved down to his knees, made helpless now at the mercy of his escort, the pilot of the helicopter. His arms are up, his head is down, and his temple is throbbing now to add to his frustrations.

 

“ _Tell your friend to cooperate, and he won’t be harmed,_ ” the pilot hisses through their mask. “ _This is regulation. Everyone, carrier or not, goes through this._ ”

 

Rochelle struggles with her chaperone just long enough to not have a gun smacked into her head, managing a look over to Ellis and his current situation. “Sweetie!” she calls to him, as she is jerked to a stop, “just let them lead you! It’s gonna be okay, we’ve got this!”

 

He does not respond, but he does not argue what he is being told. He continues his silence as the pilot pulls him to his feet, and all nine of them continue once more towards whatever their target may be. There is a door leading down into the building, Nick presumes, which their current direction takes them to, so at least they will be indoors. Maybe a holding cell, which is not going to do well for him but it will be something— and at least now they are in legal custody. Maybe it really _is_ going to be okay.

 

Just as all of them are through the doors, Nick first, then Rochelle, then Coach, a loud gunshot rings through the air, followed my multiple accompanying ones. Instantly, panic surges through Nick and Rochelle, not knowing what is happening behind them, and they try to turn their head as much as possible, shouting out Ellis’ name again.

 

More gunshots fill the air, but the door slams shut behind them, and though it cuts off the light of day, through the dimly lit area, both of the worried team members find Ellis, still being led by the pilot. He actually looks up at being called for, but once the marching continues on, he says more of _nothing._ Given the situation, Nick can easily understand why he would be silent, but it is still odd, even worrying, that the country boy has not attempted much vocalization at all. Of this, he makes a note to confront, even if it takes asking about the fabled buddy Keith to get him going once more.

 

It feels as though it takes near an hour just to get from the helipad to the designated “safe zone”, which is literally just a normal room with a door made out of bars. Once everyone is loaded into the small space, the interrogator from before tosses a small package of gauze into the room. Everything else— guns, pills, med kits, _anything_ they had brought with them— is gone. As the door slams shut with not a word of passing from their supposed saviors, Nick turns to Coach.

 

“How’s your leg?” he questions as the man limps with the help of Rochelle to the only bed in the room. Aside from that furniture, there is only a plain mattress in the floor, a sink, and a toilet. It is not exactly fancy, but it is something, Nick supposes.

 

“It feels like _shit_ ,” Coach says, brows furrowing when Rochelle crouches in front of him to inspect it. “I’ll tell you what, if my boy Ellis hadn’t done this for me, I’d be bleeding out everywhere.”

 

 _Speaking of_ , Nick thinks to himself while turning to find the hick. Ellis has wandered over to the sink, turned on the faucet, and begun slapping cold water onto his still untreated shoulder. Nick huffs quietly, looking over to find whatever gauze the soldiers had given them, and then moves to snatch it out of the cold cement floor. Coach’s leg had been handled, Rochelle and Nick himself had not been badly hurt before boarding the chopper, and they surely were not going to be here long. Ellis’ shoulder needs tending.


End file.
